


Babysitting Is A Pain

by Xixichelth



Category: Astoria Fate's Kis, Astoria: Fate's Kiss, Labyrinths of Astoria
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 23:42:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6631831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xixichelth/pseuds/Xixichelth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This takes place after the MC's mother dies rather than before, diverging from canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Babysitting Is A Pain

She maintained her moody silence the whole way to Alex Cyprin’s place.

 

Josh ignored it through long practice. “Sorry, sis, but I need to work and not worry about you while I do it. So you’re stuck.”

 

She made a face at his back, and added an eye-roll for good measure.  _Bad enough to have a babysitter, but to be babysat by_ ** _them_** _was just adding injury to insult._

 

Of course that would be when Alex opened the door. 

 

_I am doomed to be embarrassed forever. Ugh._

 

“Come on in,” they said. “Josh, you owe me something delicious for this.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just don’t let her con you into letting her bake if you value your counter-space.”

 

“...Wait, what?”

 

“Gotta go - thanks again for being a pal!”

 

 

 

She glowered, silently, like a purse-dog set to make people regret making eye contact. It would have worked better if she wasn’t so cute.

 

Alex took a breath and reminded themselves that chihuahuas _had_ actually treed bears. Appearances could be deceptive.

 

“Uh, so, are you going to be a baker?”

 

The reply was just as surly as expected. “No. That would be too much like Josh. I have to do my own thing.” 

 

“Which would be...?” They trailed off in favor of caution.

 

She kicked off her shoes and shrugged her backpack off. “Dunno. Something different. You?”

 

Alex tried not to cringe as the shoes landed, loudly, in wildly disparate places.  “I’m going to join H.E.R.A. after college’s done.”

 

She flopped backwards on their couch and sighed. “Why bother? My teachers are already killing me with homework.”

 

They took a fortifying breath and ticked the facts off on their fingers. “One, I’m already halfway done because of the I.B. program; two, I like what the organization does; three, I like it here; four, I’d rather be useful than indolent.”

 

“Did you just use that in an actual sentence? Seriously?”

 

“Seriously,” they returned,  holding the reins of their patience in a tight grip.

 

“But what would you even do there?”

 

“Work,” they said, trying not to count all the other things they’d rather be doing.

 

“But, like, as an agent? An archivist? An analyst?”

 

“Ideally, a bit of everything. Keep busy enough to never get bored, do it well enough to make a difference, and so on.”

 

“They’d let you do that?”

 

“There’s enough there to keep at least one whole department busy doing the stuff that lets the specialists do their jobs at least one order of magnitude more effectively. I’m not sure why they haven’t streamlined it yet, but I’m not complaining about an obvious opportunity.”

 

“Almost sounds fun. Except for the reams of paperwork.”

 

“College: the best place to accustom yourself to the bureaucratic process.”

 

“…That was a joke, right?”

 

“The doubt in your voice! Yes, mostly.”

 

She rummaged around in her backpack, still sprawled, and took out a bag of cookies tied with a cute ribbon. “Guess you can have this after all, then. Catch.”

 

They caught it with reflexes honed by years of ultimate frisbee and blinked at her. “You bake?”

 

“You have something against cookies?”

 

They cradled the cookies against their chest. “No. It’s just…not something I’ve seen you do much, before.”

 

She sighed up at the ceiling, avoiding their gaze. “‘Before’ is the key. Now is…different. So I bake. A lot. It helps.”

 

Alex brushed their pendant with their fingertips, seeking calm. “I’m glad something does.” The words weren’t enough, but it seemed risky to offer a hug. This coltish girl was too different from the child they remembered.

 

“Josh said you probably had homework. I know I do. Dunno why I can quintuple a recipe no problem but math’s a pain. Got plenty more in here, though. Lemon sandwich cookies, because Josh had this recipe that called for heaps of juice and hardly any zest.”

 

Alex lifted an eyebrow. “Let me know if you get stuck. I can help with the math, anyway, in exchange for the cookies. You want some tea?”

 

“Sure,” she said, sitting up and hauling books and binders and a handful of vibrant pens out, followed by a pencil box with a classic Lisa Frank look. Pausing, she looked over and flushed. “It was Mom’s,” she mumbled.

 

They nodded, offering, gently, “We all miss her and remember her in our own ways,” before they left the room to make that soothing beverage.

 

Kindly, they pretended not to hear the muffled sobs, and stayed in the kitchen until the tea was fully prepared.

 

Giving her the Eurovision memorabilia mug with Aphrodite and themselves emblazoned across was no accident. 

 

It made her giggle, as did the flourish with which they offered her a clean handkerchief, ostensibly to spread across her lap. 

 

“As you can see, there are some obvious reasons our mothers were such good friends.” They ignored her quick swipe at the tears and carefully continued to look over her head. “If you’re going to dunk the cookies, wait until my back is turned, okay?”

 

“What, afraid I’ll leave crumbs in this masterpiece?” 

 

“No, I just don’t want to see your face when you realize the tea doesn’t match the cookies. Though, who knows, they might be enough to make it taste decent. Next time I am budgeting for _good_ tea, because if I’m drinking stuff that’s going to leave my hair on end it might as well be coffee.”

 

“You say that like good coffee’s in the budget.”

 

“It’s not,” they admitted, “but bad coffee is easier to disguise.”

 

“Until it hits your stomach and starts burning a hole, anyway.”

 

“Josh is the one who wanted the crazy hours of being a chef,” they said, opening their desk and settling in front of it.

 

“Yeah, and he’s the one who keeps ranting that if he ever gets to make decisions his staff is going to get sick leave because he doesn’t want his customers to get an iron constitution the hard way.”

 

“Good luck to him,” they replied, mildly.

 

“So how do you drink coffee?”

 

“Sweet and strong, ideally, like my l - uh, licorice.”

 

There was a slurp and a crunch behind them, and just enough silence that they thought their slip might have gone unnoticed.

 

“I heeeeeard that,” came the sing-song comment.

 

They ignored her and bit into a cookie.

 

“…What do I have to do to get more of these? I think they’re a better study aid than the tea.”

 

“Tutor me and I’ll pay you in cookies,” she returned promptly.

 

“Do whatever homework you can, then write up a passable contract and I’ll consider it.”

 

“I have the _perfect_ sticker to seal it,” she said, with suspicious enthusiasm.

 

They tamped down a sense of foreboding and focused on the textbook in front of them as best they could around a mouthful of melting lemon loveliness.

 

Quiet crept around the two as they studied, each comforted by the undemanding presence of the other, and the slant of the light through the windows had altered before it was broken by a triumphant shout.

 

“Take that, you evil thing!”

 

Cyprin froze, caught their breath, and turned cautiously. 

 

Before their eyes was a ridiculously ferocious act of erasure, so vigorous that the girl’s hair formed a cloud around her. 

 

They smirked. 

 

This was, perhaps, not their wisest choice.

 

She looked up, saw their expression, and scowled.

 

“You know, I did offer a trial run of tutoring in exchange for the cookies.”

 

“Only if you know how to solve these stupid math problems. I can tell when I’m wrong, sometimes, but their explanations are about as helpful as trying to use an Amtrak schedule on the subway.”

 

“So they might as well be speaking Greek?” 

 

She tossed a pillow at their head. “If you’re gonna use a lame joke like that, you might as well _actually_ say it in Greek.”

 

“You do realize I have siblings already?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Your choice. You can have me as an ally, or you can alienate me.”

 

“Pfft. Like I bother to give people I don’t like a hard time?”

 

“Are you unhappy with me, Josh, or the world at large?”

 

“Depends when you ask. I mean, I’m way too old for a babysitter. I’d be fine on my own.”

 

They lifted a dubious brow.

 

“I would! I mean, I only set off the smoke alarm once, and that was before I learned about how stuff bubbles over and bakes onto the oven floor…”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“And it’s not like I’d have a party. I mean, okay, maybe a couple of girlfriends, but that’s not a party, exactly, we’d just hang out together.”

 

“Okay…”

 

“And Josh is super-busy and dealing with all sorts of stuff he never signed up for - I mean, he did a great fish impression when I asked him about my sex ed homework, which I guess was kinda mean, but it’s not like I’m gonna ask the grumpy old lady across the hall…”

 

They snorted at that. “I could find you plenty of better people to talk to about that. Scratch that, I _will_ find you better people to ask about that, because I think Josh would implode if he had to give you The Talk.”

 

“Probably. And yes, yes I am mad at everything, and it’s not because I’m this age, it’s because - well, you know.”

 

“I know,” they said, gently. “You should have people to talk to about that, too.”

 

She sighed. “Yeah. But not…not ones who really understand. Who knew her. Not as this badass agent, but as my mom.”

 

“Well, I did. So you can talk to me.”

 

“You’ve been really busy. Like everyone else.” 

 

They heard the hurt hiding behind the surliness. “Look, busy doesn’t mean I won’t make time for you. I’ve known you since you were toddling around after Josh and me. I’m sorry if it seems like I’ve abandoned you since I started college. I, uh, kinda got caught up in that whole experience. I can’t make up for the stupid choices I already made, but I can and will tutor you so that at least you don’t need to worry about school so much, and - uh, try to be around. To talk. Or text.”

 

She bit her lip, hesitantly. “I’m not trying to guilt you into helping.”

 

They sighed and rubbed a hand over their face. “I’m trying, and apparently failing, to apologize for being a self-centered jerk who figured you’d bring stuff up if you wanted and otherwise I should leave well enough alone. It’s not like I don’t know you well enough to understand that you hate asking for help. There are probably ants who understand you hate that.”

 

She made a face.

 

“Come on, stomping around isn’t exactly standard behavior for you, Miss Sunshine and Sugar. Skipping, on the other hand…”

 

“Unless you want me to skip the part of the tutoring contract where I pay you in baked goodies, knock it off.”

 

Their gasp of horror was not entirely feigned. “Not the cookies!”

 

“I mean it, if you try to do a Cookie Monster act I’m not gonna feed you.”

 

Their pout was deliberately dramatic. “But you always laughed when I did that.”

 

“Yeah…when we were still watching Sesame Street.”

 

“You mean you stopped? They still have all the best performers on, though…”

 

“Duh, that’s what clips are for. Now, are you going to make yourself useful and help me figure out this equation before I start jotting completely random letters from the Greek alphabet on the answer sheet?”

 

“I can’t tell if you’re trying to exact revenge or just want to see if you can make me faint.” They walked over as they talked, recognizing the shift in mood. 

 

Her smile was sharp-edged, but it reached her eyes.

 

Relieved, they settled next to her and examined her work. “You’re close, but if you try…”

 

It would take years, but it just might be possible to help her get back to the bubbly, enthusiastic, driven girl they remembered. Maybe. If she got the support she needed. They couldn’t change the past, or her loss, but they could make sure she didn’t have to shoulder her burdens alone, and had someone to reminisce with.

 


End file.
